I thought that after all that shopping and Asian-style pampering, it be best if we tone things down a tad and revisit reality. Temporarily.
Hence another long weekend in Baku. That third world country we’ve come to know and love. Also home to my, nay, our, future wife. Who we’ve also come to know and love. Primarily because she’s simply fantastical. But mostly because she’s hott. And has an accent. But not like the kind you find in Canada. Or Arkansas. Illiteracy isn’t an accent. Write that down.
I’m also now a Wanted man in Moscow. Which is kind of ironic since I jokingly bl*gged about it a few months ago. I couldn’t wait any longer for my restaurant bill, so I bolted. Scadattled, if you will. I don’t remember ever doing such a thing, so I wasn’t sure if I did it right or handled it appropriately. But as we sat on the taxi-way, I anxiously veered out the window of yet another outdated Aeroflot aircraft, cognizant of every flashing light that came into my peripheral, half expecting to get pulled over.
Alas, we are back home in Germany. A place where, like France, nothing gets done. I’ve been in the office for almost 4 weeks now and I have no cell phone, computer, ID badge, AMEX, office phone or business cards. Getting something approved here is like getting a Resolution passed through the United Nations. I have no idea what a ‘Resolution’ is, but I hear it’s a bitch to pass. Like a gigantic kidney stone. I once had a roommate who had six kidney stones. All while we lived together. Even though she would always leave the lights on, I felt really bad for her. They’re so small so I would imagine passing one would be like a gigantic, prolonged orgasm.
But I guess not.
Hence another long weekend in Baku. That third world country we’ve come to know and love. Also home to my, nay, our, future wife. Who we’ve also come to know and love. Primarily because she’s simply fantastical. But mostly because she’s hott. And has an accent. But not like the kind you find in Canada. Or Arkansas. Illiteracy isn’t an accent. Write that down.
I’m also now a Wanted man in Moscow. Which is kind of ironic since I jokingly bl*gged about it a few months ago. I couldn’t wait any longer for my restaurant bill, so I bolted. Scadattled, if you will. I don’t remember ever doing such a thing, so I wasn’t sure if I did it right or handled it appropriately. But as we sat on the taxi-way, I anxiously veered out the window of yet another outdated Aeroflot aircraft, cognizant of every flashing light that came into my peripheral, half expecting to get pulled over.
Alas, we are back home in Germany. A place where, like France, nothing gets done. I’ve been in the office for almost 4 weeks now and I have no cell phone, computer, ID badge, AMEX, office phone or business cards. Getting something approved here is like getting a Resolution passed through the United Nations. I have no idea what a ‘Resolution’ is, but I hear it’s a bitch to pass. Like a gigantic kidney stone. I once had a roommate who had six kidney stones. All while we lived together. Even though she would always leave the lights on, I felt really bad for her. They’re so small so I would imagine passing one would be like a gigantic, prolonged orgasm.
But I guess not.
